All Your Nights Belong to Me
by Sat-Isis
Summary: James Norrington is given a choice: he can serve Lord Beckett during the day or he can serve him at night.
1. Prologue

When Norrington presented the heart to Beckett, Cutler was surprisingly pleased; but as with all men like Beckett with ambitions as big as the world – he was never pleased with anything for long. And so after James was cleaned up and Beckett saw the proud and elegant James as he had once been it pleased Cutler. He offered Norrington a choice; an addendum to their initial deal:

"I am willing to make you an admiral, James Norrington, but for this elevation in station you must make a choice: you can spend your days under my command and have your nights to yourself or you can spend your days under your own command, but all your nights shall belong to me."

"Why the choice, Lord Beckett? What would have been your requirement afore?"

"All your days would belong to me and your nights as well. Unfortunately, there is some misconception regarding my reputation; people believe me to be a cruel man. This is simply not the case and thus, the choice is yours."

At the cold tingle of adrenalin in his blood, James knew exactly what Cutler meant. What he did not know was what command under Cutler would be like in the day. It would have been much easier for James to have been commanded – he knew how to follow orders – but when presented with such a choice where he could make a mistake – Norrington was terrified.

"How long until I have to decide, My Lord?"

"A smart man you are, James Norrington, and I knew it to be so. You have five days. Choose wisely."

For five days James Norrington observed and analyzed. He saw the extent of Cutler Beckett's machinations; he came to a conclusion.

_(To think T&T would have us believe he had no choice at all!)_


	2. Day One

On the first day it became clear to James Norrington that Lord Beckett did not have the capabilities to run his own fleet; Lord Beckett was a noble man and business man, but not a military man. There was no discipline aboard the Endeavour and the Flying Dutchman was barely leashed; James Norrington prognosticated two possible conclusions: Lord Beckett would achieve his ends in the worst was possible or not achieve his ends in the worst way possible. A way had to be found to temper the ambitions of Cutler Beckett with the needs of the subjects of the crown.


	3. Day Two

On the second day his long-held suspicions were confirmed:

"The hurricane that had blown up from nowhere – that was no accident."

"No. You and I were not the only men hunting for Jack Sparrow. It would seem as though your ship had fallen prey to a trap laid for the Black Pearl. A pity that." And with a flick of the Lord's wrist he was brushed aside, rather like Davy Jones had flicked aside the Dauntless and her crew. Inconsequential. Brutal. Unnecessary.

James Norrington would make sure it never happened again and suddenly the remaining days seemed too far away.


	4. Day Three

On the third day he decided something must be done about the hierarchy aboard the Endeavour:

Lord Beckett had no business commanding a flagship, Groves chaffed at being 1st Lt. and rubbed everyone the wrong way, and 2nd Lt. Greitzer was far more suited to captaincy. Norrington would usurp the staterooms, appoint Groves Master and Commander of a reconnaissance sloop, and elevate Greitzer to flag captain; it would not be the last time James was grateful for the power of his new rank.

Furthermore, he needed loyal men aboard his flag ship. Two marines came to mind, Murtogg and Mullroy.


	5. Day Four

Before he decided, Norrington had to be absolutely sure he could handle Beckett holding dominion over his nights.

"During the course of the night I will not…be forced to defile…unwilling women or mutilate children? Nothing - nothing of that sort?"

Beckett looked shocked, outraged.

"My God, Norrington! Where have you heard such ghastly rumors? You shall be at my disposal, and I shall use you, and you shall be glad of it. I will not tolerate unwilling participants – either you submit to me fully – willingly – or not at all. Make your choice."

"I have one day to decide, My Lord."


	6. Day Five

Norrington weighed his options carefully. It seemed the only way Norrington could protect the innocent and serve the Crown was to have his days to himself…

But truly, what was a bit of buggery in the grand scheme of things? When James was the hammer he would strike and when he was the anvil he would bear. So long as discretion was observed and the night did not intrude upon the day he had made his choice.

"Lord Beckett, I choose to keep my days as my own."

"Come then, James, and let us seal our bargain with a kiss."


	7. First Night

That night Admiral Norrington ate at Lord Beckett's table; not in the dinning room but in Beckett's private quarters. Cutler insisted on a cessation of formalities. They supped on nothing but oysters and shrimp in the raw. Instead of wine, licorice tea was served with the meal. It was quite possibly the worst combination of tastes James had ever experienced, but he understood the aphrodisiacal implications of each item; trust Cutler Beckett not to opt for something so pedestrian as champaign and strawberries.

There was something wrong, however, for James felt the room grow hot and stuffy. The French doors were slung wide open and a breeze played with the gossamer curtains. Norrington felt dizzy as Cutler Beckett smiled at him from across the table.

"Are you quite finished, James?"

Norrington tried to respond, but his mouth was too dry to form words and he downed the rest of his tea sloppily with clumsy hands.

"Yes, I believe you are."

Cutler rose and came to stand before James, he offered his hand palm up to the new Admiral as though he were his Lady to be escorted to the wedding chambers. After some hesitation, he clasped his hand upon the Lord's and drew himself up unsteadily from the chair. Beckett smiled.

"Come."

And Norrington did.


	8. The First Night Continued

In the bedchamber, Beckett – no Cutler, the Lord had insisted upon the use of given names in bed – had stripped him down slowly. He had paid particular attention to James' cravat and stockings; a slow slide of starched fabric and a prickly cheek rubbed against his silk encased calf.

Norrington was on his back in the large bed looking dizzily at the canopy as Cutler undressed himself. For such a small man he had an incredibly large bed; James' feet did not hang off the edge, but rested comfortably on the red, folded back spread.

The whole room was like some exotic seraglio; thick oriental carpets, velvet and silk pillows, dark and cherry-stained wood, the playful flicker of oil lamps, and rich golden flourished throughout all the red dressings. Somehow the room remained just shy of gaudy.

When Cutler had crawled under the mosquito netting around the bed, James was a bit shocked at how he looked in the raw: A lusty cupid with thick, lustrous curls darker than his own.

Beckett could see that James was still sweating profusely and his manhood twitched half hard against his thigh; the drugs and aphrodisiacs were fighting for dominance within him. Cutler preferred to keep him in this half state, James would be so much easier to manage.

Leaning down next to him, the Lord pressed a kiss to his Admiral's lips and then ran his tongue along the seam of the other man's lips. Parted lips allowed a deeper kiss and Cutler unobtrusively fondled James' cock and balls. Norrington was skittish under his touch but never once did he resist.

He was turned over on his belly and thoroughly prepared by Cutler, and when the Lord grasped his hips and pressed into him James never felt any pain. Nor did he feel any pleasure, just a vaguely strange and discomforting friction. Tonight was nothing but possession. When Cutler had slaked his lust with James he withdrew to his bedroom and left Norrington to sleep.


	9. First Day After

Norrington was woken before dawn by Mercer fisting his hair; the first thing he did was vomit into the chamber pot held under his face. James moaned in pain when he could catch his breath, he felt miserable.

But Mercer was drawing him up and pressing a cup of water to his lips to rinse out the horrid taste. When Norrington spit out the water into the chamber pot the clerical assassin forced him to stand and washed him between his legs with a lukewarm cloth.

"Mr. Mercer! I must protest!"

"There, there, Admiral. Orders from Lord Beckett, else you'd be a slug-a-bed all day long."

James clamped his mouth shut and endured the tender mercies of Lord Beckett's hospitality. He was helped into his new dress uniform and Mercer made a surprisingly good valet, though Norrington insisted on tying his own cravat. For breakfast he was served strong black tea and dry toast; Norrington was content to nibble on a piece of toast while he had several cups of tea.

Later that day among all the pomp and circumstance - when the sunlight was piercing his eyes and he felt weak as a kitten and looked as pale as milk - the crowd would think that the new Admiral had over indulged the night before in celebration of his new rank.


	10. The First Day Continued

Upon arrival in the great cabin James suffered quite a shock. There was Lord Beckett's portrait and end tables and knick-knacks – the whole place was cluttered! It was as though this cabin did not belong to the Admiral at all, but Lord Cutler Beckett! James did not like it at all. The _Endeavour_ was a first rate ship of the line; not a pleasure yacht.

Admiral Norrington spent the first day of his new command taking note of all superfluous items within the cabin and making arrangements for them to be delivered to the EITC headquarters. He never had the opportunity to present Lt. Groves with the command of a reconnaissance sloop or to make Lt. Greitzer a post captain and his flag captain.

Come the end of the evening, James Norrington would have to face the wrath of Lord Beckett for removing _his _personal affects from _his_ personal cabin.


	11. Second Night

"Lord Beckett, I do not understand. Whence do these assumptions come that you would be accompanying me on the _Endeavour_?"

"Do you seek a graceful exit from our bargain already, my Admiral?"

"My Lord, I am insulted. My word, once given, is not so easily revoked. I pray you not impugn my honor so. A lord such as you has neither business nor authority on a warship. As it is, I have no need yet to sail; you are in no danger of losing the using of my body. Just as you have stipulations, so do I. Do not forget: you agreed to discretion and to do nothing that would interfere with my authority over my days."

"Eloquently spoken, Norrington, however…"

"Lord Beckett, there will be battles and they shall be fierce and bloody – do you wish to void our agreement with your unnecessary death?"

"Would you seek to end your obligations in such a manner?"

"I am no coward! How dare you! My Lord."

"Oh dear, have I ruffled your feathers again? Pity."

"Lord Beckett. I must carry out my duties and hunt for these 'so-called' Pirate Lords. In order to do that I must have a functional fleet. I am very sorry to inform you that tea parties have no place in the Navy."

"That will be all, James. Your presence is required in the Red Room by Mr. Mercer. Do exactly as he says. I shall be with you shortly."

"My Lord Beckett, I take my leave."


	12. The Second Night Continued

Cutler Beckett pictured the scene perfectly in his mind:

James' body gleamed white in the candle light, a slight sheen on his skin, trembling in anxiety. Each arm was tied to a bedpost with silken cord, sinuous muscle defined in chiaroscuro, and soft panting greeted Cutler's arrival in the Red Room. Norrington was made to wait while Beckett milked every bit of tension possible.

A noise alerted the Lord's presence in the room and he saw a flash of green in a disheveled face as James looked over his shoulder. A look of fear, but in spite of it his erection pressed against the linens beneath him at Beckett's approach.

The reality was less inspiring however as Cutler found the Red Room dark and Norrington, indeed tied to the bed, snoring into a pillow. With a sigh, Beckett chided his over-active imagination and sat beside his Admiral on the bed. His hand reached out to pet the man's long, lean flank.

Drowsily, Norrington came awake slowly and the instant he became away that Cutler Beckett was stroking his thigh James stiffened like a board. Well, every part of him except that part. It was only through great force of will and control over his emotions and body that he was able to relax into indifference.


	13. More of the Second Night

"My Lord."

Cutler pinched James on his buttock.

"Now, now, what have I said? 'My Lord' is for the drawing room."

"Cutler."

"Much better."

Beckett patted Norrington on his rump.

"It is not necessary to bind me."

"Ah, James, but I rather fancy you all trussed up."

As Norrington harrumphed into the pillow, Cutler drew himself up and began the ruthlessly methodical task of undressing neatly. It was curious indeed how Beckett managed to act out his passions as though he were void of them.

James stole a glance at the Lord and was again surprised at how a lack of refined clothing and a powdered wig made Beckett look positively wicked. Norrington turn his eyes to the pillow again least Cutler catch him watching.

And then he returned to the bed with the little Egyptian glass vile full of sweet-scented oil. James splayed his legs a bit to accommodate Cutler as he crawled onto the bed.

"Up."

Beckett commanded with his hands on James' hips and he shifted his legs under him into a kneeling position, his weight falling onto his shoulders and chest. As Cutler situated himself between the Admiral's thighs, Norrington grasped the red cords that held him to the bed and pressed his face into the pillow - preparing for the worst.

But nothing prepared James for the slick bit of tongue Cutler applied to the sensitive area between his cheeks.


	14. More of the Same Night

It had started innocently enough, if one could describe it thusly, for Cutler was merely nuzzling the small of James' back. The soft lips and scathing stubble played oddly with the fine hair on Norrington's lower back and made him tremble.

"What are you doing?"

Beckett answered with a flick of his tongue over James' left cheek. Cutler grasped each buttock and ran the point of his tongue down Norrington's cleft; all the way down to _there_.

"My God! Stop that! No!"

And James was surging out of Cutler's grasp, but he could not go far. Beckett latched on to his bucking hips; holding him in position.

"Now, now James. Must I call Mr. Mercer in to hold you down, or will you be good and cooperate? Hm?"

"How can you do that – how can you want to? Disgusting - dirty!"

"Were you dirty I would not touch you, James. Just relax and enjoy it."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes."

Norrington whimpered and Beckett angled his hips as he pleased. James had never been so embarrassed in all his life when Cutler spread his cheeks with both hands and proceeded to - literally – kiss his arse.

Biting his tongue as the silken cords bit into his wrists, he endured the hot-wet-cold sensation of the Lord's tongue against him. Such stimulation alone was not enough to provoke a reaction and Cutler Beckett fondled James' prick and balls, manipulating him into a half-hardedness.

When Norrington climaxed his tongue was throbbing in pain and his hands were swollen and numb from struggling against the restraints. James thought for a moment that he might cry.

"James, you should have told me these were hurting you."

Beckett chided him as he easily slipped the knot of each silken cord. Norrington wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and disappear, but Cutler was not yet sated and rolled him over on his back.

James hid his face in his hands.

"I hate you."

Cutler Beckett laughed softly.


	15. Still the Second Night

Cutler's eyes flickered to James' softening member and contemplated the man before him. Norrington felt the Lord's eyes on him and wished he could close his legs and hide himself, but he had been arranged in such a way as to have Beckett still kneeling betwixt his thighs.

"Look at me."

James kept his hands over his flushed face, but parted his fingers as his eyes begrudgingly fluttered open. Beckett canted his head at James, highly amused by his Admiral's antics. He considered ordering a kiss from Norrington. Cutler knew it would be too much; he wanted to bend the man out of shape, not break him.

Instead the Lord leaned down and pressed his lips to James' elegant collar bone. Beckett mouthed the pale, goose-pimpled flesh and then pressed a peck to his suprasternal notch before pressing his face into Norrington's glossy chest hair. Cutler breathed in and caught the scent of wool from the Admiral's uniform, the pang of clean sweat, and the tang of his catamite's release.

"James, I want you too look at me."

Norrington opened his eyes through the slats of his fingers again and forced himself to meet Cutler's steady gaze. Balancing on his right arm, Beckett brought his left hand up under James' knee and lifted it over his shoulder. His stomach dropped as he realized the implications. James never realized that two men could copulate facing each other, but then an hour ago he would not have imagined Cutler Beckett sliding and swirling his tongue in and about his arse.

Beckett pressed the wet, blunt head of his manhood against his Admiral's hole, pressing forward. Norrington tensed. James was surprised to find the Lord's cock slick; he had not noticed Cutler prepare himself.

"Relax."

It was a command impossible to obey. James, already in an uncomfortable position, unconsciously bore down on Beckett's intrusion. Both men were biting their lips; Norrington concentrated on something other than the slow burn inside him and Cutler focused on the delicious resistance and tightness.

"James Norrington, you have one sweet arse."

Beckett sighed when he was sheathed in James, his bullocks hot and tight against Norrington's cheeks. Cutler ran his hand along James' thigh in approval, the touch so light it was ticklish and made his skin twitch like a horse's flank. At the very least Norrington was glad Beckett knew what he was about; he was neither bleeding nor in pain.

Cutler began to move in and out of him; Norrington preferred the withdrawals to the thrusts as he breathed harshly into his palms. Beckett's face was flushed, his eyes passion-glazed; James knew he could get away with un-focusing his eyes. It was easy to lay back and think of England when Beckett blurred into the background.

Norrington blushed terribly when Beckett slaked his lust within him; not only could he see the look of climax on his face, but he could feel it hot and wet inside. James was relieved - Cutler was finished with him.


	16. The End of the Second Night

As James lay awake in the red bedroom he contemplated several different methods to murder Cutler Beckett. Norrington thought about using the curtain cords to strangle him, the oversized pillows to suffocate him, his bare hands to break his neck, and the porcelain chamber pot to smash his head in. Naturally, none of these options would actually work; he would be caught and then executed. And that was if he were lucky. The worst case scenario was Mr. Mercer tracking him down and giving him "what-for." The man had a strange loyalty to his master.

Norrington's mind came circling back to the disgraceful way Beckett had used him. While James had been contemplating the room's decorating scheme and paying particular attention to the ceiling, Cutler was hard again inside him and pressing against Norrington. He had paid the Lord no mind until Beckett had found a place inside him that made James ache. And he had just kept thrusting into Norrington until the Admiral climaxed. Despite his protests, Cutler had made James' toes curl, made him grasp the other man's shoulders, and made him arch up against him, keening.

And then Beckett had the audacity to kiss him with his dirty mouth during Norrington's moment of vulnerability. Whispering how good it was against his lips after forcing his tongue into James' mouth. Norrington was so disgusted, after knowing where Cutler's lips had been; he never realized Beckett was still hard when he pulled out. Apparently, James had not been humiliated enough and the Lord's words came back to mock him. _"I shall use you, and you shall be glad of it."_

Ha! Glad of it? When Beckett had fisted himself over Norrington and spitting his seed on his chest? As if there was not enough room in his Admiral's arse for a second filling? He must have given away his outrage.

"There, there, James. I am quite finished with you. Goodnight."

Cutler wiped his hand clean by rubbing it in Norrington's chest hair. James trembled in silent rage, lights flashing in his eyes, and he fought the urge to lash out at Beckett as he settled himself beside Norrington on the bed.

The bastard had never spent the night with him before, but by bedding down with Norrington he effectively prevented him from washing the shame off immediately. James could feel their semen mingling as it dried on his chest. His skin itched and there was a damp spot in the linens.

It was close to dawn when Cutler Beckett rolled away from him and James Norrington fled the red room without so much as a stitch of clothing. Escaping the mansion, he made his way silently and fleetly down to the beach. James crashed into the surf, submerging. Scooping up handfuls of sand, the Admiral scrubbed the Lord's touch off of him until he was raw and the horizon dawned pink. James shuddered from the cool water against his flesh and his tears were from the salt water, naturally.


	17. Second Day

James Norrington had managed to avoid Cutler that morning, as well as Mr. Mercer. Although he did bump into the housekeeper who looked vaguely familiar, both giving the other a second glance, and on his way out the front door he exchanged mild morning pleasantries with the butler, Saunders.

The Admiral could have gone to his office, but now that the EITC had appropriated the building for its own uses James sought the solace of his flagship. At least there his likelihood of crossing paths with Lord Beckett was highly unlikely.

Norrington was quite tired, but before he would allow himself a nap in the sleeping cabin, James set about writing Groves and Greitzer's commissions.


	18. More of the Second Day

James finished Lt. Greitzer's commission first, sprinkled sand over the ink, and made the document official with his new executive seal. He dearly hoped he was not making a mistake in naming this man his flag captain. Norrington knew Greitzer's record to be impeccable, but he knew so little of the man himself. It would be easy to keep an eye on him as his fleet's flag captain. James did not know if he could trust the man enough to keep him on a long leash.

A staccato knock on the door heralded the entrance of his steward with the brandy on a silver tray. After the barest of pleasantries, Mr. Hennessey retreated to the Galley and the Admiral finished Lt. Groves' commission as commander of the pretty prize corvette _Trebuchet_. James hoped that Theo would not be jealous over Greitzer's promotion, but pleased with his meager measure of autonomy as fleet reconnaissance.

"Mr. Murtogg, enter."

The bumbling marine entered, catching his bayonet on the doorframe. Mullroy rolled his eyes and continued to flank the entrance to the Admiral's cabin.

"Sir?"

"Close the door."

"Aye-Aye, Commod-Admiral, Sir."

"Dear God, I hate those uniforms."

"Thank you, Sir. We hate them too, Sir."

"I request the presence of Lt. Groves and Lt. Greitzer in my cabin immediately, if you please, Mr. Murtogg."

"Aye-Aye, Sir!"


	19. Yet More of the Second Day

Habitually late, Lt. Groves arrived at Admiral Norrington's cabin fifteen minutes after Lt. Greitzer. Norrington canted his head at Groves' guilty expression. Theo looked sideways at Greitzer, but his gaze went unacknowledged.

"Glad you finally joined us for this propitious occasion, Lt. Groves."

"I suppose this means I am not in trouble again? Sir."

It still amazed James that the Navy had never been able to beat all of Theo's bad habits out of him as a midshipman.

"Is there something you need to tell me, Lt. Groves?"

"Oh, no sir! All the way here I was trying to remember what it was that I had done, but it seems I have done nothing at all recently."

Theodore's face as vacillated from worry to cheer and James felt deep in his belly that Groves had indeed done something that he _had_ forgotten about and that it had _not yet_ come to his attention.

Lt. Greitzer looked bored and Norrington was eager for his nap so the proceedings went on.

"Now that I am an Admiral I have certain privileges and one in particular that I wish to invoke. Lt. Greitzer based on your record I have decided to promote you to the rank of Flag Captain of the Endeavour. Congratulations."

"Most auspicious, sir."

Greitzer took his new commission from James' extended hand as though it were no more than a handkerchief. Disconcerted, he turned to Theo.

"What do you see when you look out the windows, Lt. Groves?"

Theodore obligingly cocked his head to the side to look past Norrington.

"The ocean, sir, and ships."

Already Groves was blinking heavily and looking up at James expectantly with all the charm of a boy on Christmas Morning. The Admiral smiled indulgently and gestured for Theo to go to the windows.

"Which one do you think is yours?"

Captain Greitzer had opened his commission and was reading it studiously as Lt. Groves bounded across the Great Cabin and pressed his face and palms to the window.

"Is it that one? Is it that one? It is that one! Sir?"

James sidled up slowly to his dear comrade and slipped Theo his commission in an almost sly manner.

"Congratulations, Theo, you are the Master and Commander of the Prize Corvette _Trebuchet_."

Had Captain Greitzer not been in the room, Groves would have jumped up and embraced Norrington, but he held back for the sake of his superior's sense of decorum in front of others.

"A corvette! For me! O, happy day!"

Theodore Groves ripped open his commission and started to read it avidly while James poured to brandy into sniffers. He offered one to Captain Gretizer who took the glass with his usual deadpan coolness and another to Lt. Groves who nearly spilled the good liquor in his enthusiasm. James raised his own glass to make a toast.

"Felicitations on both of your achievements, Gentlemen."

They all drank and afterwards Lt. Groves went to pack his sea chest for removal to his own vessel and Captain Greitzer set out to familiarize himself with his new duties. Half disrobed and already half asleep, Norrington retired gratefully to the darkened succor of his sleeping cabin.


	20. The End of the Second Day

Norrington slept hard, the kind of sleep that presses creases into skin from the bedding. He did not move, he did not dream. James awoke when he became too hot and uncomfortable to continue sleeping. The sky was vermillion.

James felt a tightening in his stomach, a creeping dread that worked its way up his spine and settled itself behind his eyes. He made sure to redress appropriately and took great care not to betray any emotion.

Despite all preparations, Norrington sat in his cabin until the last possible moment, watching scarlet fade to violet as the velvet night fell.


	21. Third Night

James realized with a detached sort of recognition that he was in the mood to be rebellious – an attitude that had not seized him so fiercely in over a score. He was not a dog to rush to his master's side at the slightest beck, nor was Norrington foolish as a youth to be late so that Beckett could kick him like a mongrel.

He arrived exactly on time and the guards allowed him to pass. Norrington climbed the stairs and entered the red room. He was alone, but there was a note. Lord Beckett bade him to eat supper without him and make himself comfortable. Cutler would join him later. James could not eat, his stomach was twisted. He drank the wine.

The night was sultry and with each drink grew hotter still. Articles of his clothing were removed, one by one, as the wine relaxed his body. The tapers burned low. Norrington made his way to the bed before the last light snuffed itself. He rested atop the bedding in his shirt. James was quite drunk and, in equal measure, maudlin.

James had come full of dread and adrenalin, ready to use his pride as a weapon and a shield, only to find his arrogance a vainglory and utterly useless. Without a word, a glance, a touch – without his presence – Cutler Beckett had defeated him. Norrington's stomach had turned sour. The taste in the back of his throat was the bitterness of conceit.


	22. End of the Third Night

James lay on his side in the darkness, an arm crooked under his pillow and his other hand between his bent knees. Dizzy from the wine, when his body leaned over the precipice of sleep, Norrington feel into a numb and terrifying sensation of vertigo. If he lay just so and listened to the blood rushing in his ears and the rasp of his breath through parted lips James could avoid vomiting.

There were footsteps coming from the hall and James clenched his teeth as his stomach flipped. Squeezing his eyes shut against the impending light of a taper, Norrington willed the footsteps away from the red room. The latch clicked a few times before the door opened and thankfully all that spilled through the door was more blessed darkness – and Cutler Beckett.

A loud expletive made James cringe as Beckett tripped over his own feet trying to kick off his shoes and remove his great coat at the same time. Cutler fell into the table and knocked the empty bottle of wine to the floor and sent the candelabra asunder. Norrington heard Beckett mutter "motherfucking cocksucker" as he righted himself and shrugged his coat onto the chair.

James could not tell if Cutler was drunk as he rustled out of his clothes in the dark. He did not move, did not make a sound, and Norrington silently begged for Beckett not to touch him. The covers rustled, the bed dipped, and the ropes creaked as Cutler slid in with a deep grunt of pleasure. James was taut as a cocked pistol with all the potential energy ready to recoil if Beckett so much as reached out a fingertip to his shoulder.

Norrington longed for his cabin, for his little box bed, for the smells and sounds of his ship, and for the gentle wake of the harbor to rock him to sleep. The nostalgia from years ago, for his old life before all of this, brought tears to his eyes. The tears seeped out from lids that were squeezed shut and gathered in his crow's feet like drops of dew. He realized that Cutler had been snoring gently for some time. James sobbed with relief.


	23. Third Day

Gray light softly suffused the red room with a dusky magenta glow. Norrington snuggled his face muzzily into the pillow and straightened his legs in a stretch. It was a pleasant felling to awaken unmolested and James turned his head to glance at his tormentor. He blinked at the sight of Beckett's face half blackened.

Curious, James rolled and reached out a hand to nudge Cutler's face up and examined what he at first thought were bruises. Who could have hit Cutler Beckett? He touched a black splotch and it smeared beneath his fingertips. Not an injury, but ink. Beckett had fallen asleep at his desk, woke up, and stumbled to bed. James wondered what he had been writing.

Norrington let Beckett snore softly as he washed his hands and face with cool water from the porcelain pitcher. He wondered who had left it on the wash stand, but was glad not to know. Displaying shame before a servant that he knew had seen him and Beckett in bed would have been too much. James preferred to think it was Mercer.

Sorting through the clothing littering the room, Norrington dressed and arranged himself in the small mirror to assure his appearance. James walked out and closed the door behind him. The hallway was empty. He walked towards Beckett's office, turned the corner, there was the door. Mr. Mercer was not at his place outside the door.

Norrington's stomach flipped as he realized he was about to sneak into Beckett's office and flip through his paperwork. It felt like a cutting out expedition, like his first cutting out as a snotty midshipman. Excitement. Anxiety. Not a bloody clue as to what he was doing. Biting his lip to hold back a grin, James strode towards the door.

A figure turned the corner directly in front of him and Norrington stumbled to a halt. It was a woman of middling age and she collided with him. Deliberately. They grasped at each other at the same time. She murmured an apology and thrust a hand up his sleeve before wrenching herself away from him and continuing down the corridor.

Dumbfounded, James turned and stared at her retreating form. Where in God's name had he seen her before and why in God's name had she stuck a bit of parchment up his sleeve? As Norrington turned, the door to Beckett's office opened and Mercer stepped out. Admiral and clerk nodded to each other. James turned and took the stairs down.


	24. More of the Third Day

Norrington tried to walk in his usual manner towards his flagship, but often had to keep his barreling strides in check. He kept both hands clasped in fists to hide his one hand holding his sleeve shut, the edge of the paper caught between coat and shirt. James could not wait to get to his cabin where he had complete privacy – save for his steward's knock – to read the note.

Breathing heavily and feeling as though all eyes were upon him, Norrington weaved through the crowd down Main Street and headed for the docks. Marines, sailors, officers offered salutes and prostitutes blew kisses as he passed them. Master and Commander Groves spotted him from the gang plank of the _Trebuchet_ and a wide grin split his face as he bounded down to catch up with James.

"Look, Sir! Look! Three masts on that sloop-of-war! THREE! Full rigged, sir! Did you know?" Theodore's boyish grin crinkled the crow's feet near his eyes as he babbled about the attributes of his new command, gesticulating wildly. Norrington nodded and smiled absentmindedly until Groves fell back to his own ship. A boat was waiting to take the Admiral out into the harbor where the _Endeavour_ was anchored.

James was piped aboard with all ceremony, his officers queued up along the line and his men present before the mast. The Admiral turned to his Captain and ordered a full report, a pot of coffee, and dry toast. Norrington had roughly fifteen minutes to read his note before being disturbed. Nodding to his marines, Murtogg and Mullroy, he passed into his great cabin and went to his campaign desk.

Feeling a bit of the same excitement as Groves, Norrington fished the folded piece of paper from his coat sleeve and examined it. He rubbed the parchment between his fingers and found it was very fine. Bringing it to his nose James sniffed the paper for perfume and felt chagrined when he detected none. Little thrills of adrenaline rushed up and down his spine as he unfolded the note. It was blank.


	25. Still the Third Day

Blinking, James turned he paper over and over in his hands, as though he could find the side where the writing was located if he flipped it enough. Frustration set in. He wondered why he was given a blank note. The edge was torn; perhaps he had been given the wrong slip of paper? No, wait. Perhaps the message was deliberately hidden to protect its contents. The message could be written in citrus juice! Giddy at the intrigue, Norrington pulled out his lamp and lit the wick.

After adjusting the length of the flame, James slowly moved the paper over the heat. The parchment started to change color, but no script appeared. Norrington lowered the paper closer to the flame, frowning, and the center of the paper blackened and disappeared. The cicatrix of burning spread quickly and James swore, clapping the parchment betwixt his hands to stop the burning. Norrington blew out a breath in frustration as he leaned back in his chair and it was enough to blow out his lamp.

There was a knock and Mr. Hennessey brought his coffee and dry toast on the silver tray and retreated. James munched on his toast and washed it down with the black coffee, not bothering with cream or sugar that would upset his stomach. Murtogg announced Capt. Greitzer as James bit into his second piece of toast. After swallowing the dry toast and chasing it with a sip of hot coffee, Norrington bade him to enter. Greitzer saluted and began his report on the fleet:

"The _Comet_ is currently scouting off the coast of Cuba and the _Diamond_ is fully prepared to set sail to search out and destroy or take as a prize any pirate ships and awaits your approval. The _HMS Raven_ has recently been transferred into service for a similar search and destroy mission. Likewise the _HMS Success_ is awaiting a mission. Currently, the _Trebuchet_ is loading supplies." James could not help but notice how Greizter had put the ships in alphabetical order, but had left out the _Endeavour_.


	26. More of the Same Day

"Just what is the _Comet_ scouting for, Mr. Greitzer?"

"Recruits, Sir."

"I had not realized the EITC had the authority to impress."

"We do now, Sir."

"Hm. Inform the Captains of the _Diamond_, _Raven_, and _Success_ that I shall be meting with each of them in turn. I want their logs, charts, reports, and missions made ready for my immediate review. In the meantime, I want a full report from the sailing master and the purser."

"Aye-aye, Sir."

"Mr. Greitzer."

"Sir?"

"I want the log books back, do you understand?"

"…"

"…"

"Yes, Si-"

"NO!"

"…Aye-Aye-"

"NO!"

"…Sir, I will retrieve the logs immediately."

"Never take them again."

"…No, Sir."


	27. This Day is Far from Over

The Admiral was satisfied with purser Hathway's report and was mindful to take is cut of the purser's purse. The sailing master was formerly of His Majesty's Royal Navy and James made sure they were in accord during their meeting. Mr. Burkeshire would not only mind the lines of the rigging, he would mind the lines of communication below deck and before the mast. He would keep a weather eye on the canvas and on the men of the EITC and would report his observances to James.

Norrington summoned Capt. Greitzer to accompany him to have a meet and greet with Capt. Schwann of the _Diamond_, Capt. Hopkins of the _Raven_, and Capt. Scott of the _Success_. James did not know the captains of the _Diamond _or _Success_, but he had a sinking feeling that the Joshua Hopkins of the _Raven_ was someone he knew quite well. Midshipman Hopkins had been a weasel-faced turd, had earned himself the nickname - without affection - of "Little Shite" and was nothing short of deliberately troublesome.

The _Endeavour_ was left in the capable hands of first Lt. MacNair and the Admiral and his Flag Captain descended into the boat that would carry them across the harbor to the _Diamond_. Signal flag fluttered to precede the arrival of the commander of the fleet and James could see the men arranging themselves on deck. A swell of pride and enthusiasm rippled through Norrington at the competence of the crew of the _Diamond_ that he could glean even from this distance. Those men and that ship were ultimately under his command and he could only hope that his own self flattery of pride and enthusiasm sweeping through him now could carry him through the rest of the day.


	28. Still Day Three

Captain Schwann had been born in the realm of Electress Sophia and German was his mother tongue. Despite this, the Admiral found himself at ease with the Captain's English – his accent was quite light – as the Schwanns had left Hanover to follow George I to Great Britain. During his meeting in the great cabin of the _Diamond_, James learned that Captain Schwann had received his initial education in all thing nautical through Trinity House and had gone on to the merchant service. Norrington was pleased with the captain's plain and easy manner – he neither acted suspicious nor tried to hide anything from James – and knew he would receive no trouble from this man.

Approval was granted to Captain Schwann to proceed with his orders – after the Admiral had inspected him, of course. Norrington's only concern, naturally, had been Schwann's ability to hunt and engage – to destroy or to take a prize. James had let his own Naval Pride paint this captain as a mild mannered merchantman. Schwann had sailed the routes to and from India and had successfully defended his cargo from pirates and privateers; he was no merchant bumpkin about the guns. This elder captain looked forward to putting his old pursuers to chase. Norrington and Schwann shook hands and drank a little of the captain's brandy over their mutual attitudes.


	29. Early Afternoon of the Third Day

James felt his stomach tighten as he got his first look at Capt. Joshua Hopkins of the _Raven_, formerly of His Majesty's Service. The squinty, pale eyes hooded by thick brows. A short and wide nose hovered over thin lips that split to reveal small, even teeth with large incisors and pointed canines. Little weasel. Little shite; jutting his cleft chin out at Norrington with such distain on his face.

The Admiral stared down at Hopkins, expecting the usual, albeit strained, obsequiousness and pleasantries due to his rank. What he did not expect was -

"What do you want?" Norrington was taken aback. Most of the crew, lately of the Royal Navy, were shocked: those before the mast had gaping mouths while the more restrained, commissioned crew had eyes bugging out of their sockets. The tension on board had been palpable before the boat hooks had been attached to the _Raven_, now the tension was stretched so tight that it was nearly audible.

"I have come to inspect your ship, your logs, and your mission, Capt. Hopkins," James plowed ahead, showing that he knew how to behave under less than ideal circumstances. Hopkins failed to take notice and act accordingly.

"No." There was muttering in the crowd on deck in the tone of incredulity. The sound infected the Admiral and his face changed from placidity to thunder like a strike of lighting.

"That was not a request." Hopkins belligerent attitude turned to rage.

"You've seen the ship - now shove off. My logs are my business. My mission comes from Lord Beckett himself. You already have a copy of it; you don't need to see mine." In a flash of understanding James understood that Hopkins was hiding something from him and, by extension, so was Cutler Beckett. Capt. Greitzer glanced nervously about the ship from just behind Norrington, expecting a mutiny – or at least a riot.

"I am Admiral of this fleet and I will see out my duty here. If you are not able or willing to perform your duty I will have you removed," James almost added "_Midshiteman_" to the end of his warning, but thought better of it at the last moment.

"This isn't the Navy anymore. I don't have to take orders from you," Hopkins hissed between clenched teeth as he lurched forward - his fists clenched and trembling at his sides.

In perfect synchronicity James took a step backwards to aim and held out his arm to prevent Greitzer from stepping around Norrington to place himself before Hopkins. Greitzer, seeing Norrington's other hand reaching, retreated behind the Admiral in perfect understanding. Blinking back the hot rage, Norrington managed to pull off the look of being chagrined.

"Of course this is not the Navy," and then James shot the little shite in the thigh. The report of his pistol broke the spell of tension and silence reigned for a few seconds before Joshua Hopkins flopped to the deck in a fit of screaming curses aimed at the Admiral.

James Norrington blew on his hot pistol, sending filaments of smoke fluttering into nothingness and the men on deck sent up a "_Huzzuh!_" for their Admiral. Capt. Joshua Hopkins had not been a competent, or popular, figure on the _HMS Raven_. Norringon holstered his pistol and with a glance and a gesture silenced the crew.

"Who is first?" James asked over Hopkins and the first Lt. Phillip Jordan walked up and presented himself smartly to his superior. Lt. Jordan seemed nervous and could not help biting his lip as his gaze slid down to Hopkins getting blood all over the deck.

"Lt. Jordan, I want this mess cleared off the deck," Norrington pointed his chin at the ruined man clutching his thigh.

"Aye-aye, Sir."

"Now, I intend to inspect your ship, but first I will see to the _Raven's_ logs and her mission."

"Aye-aye, Sir. This way, Sir," Lt. Jordan began to turn to lead Norrington into the great cabin.

"Oh, and one more thing."

"Sir?" Lt. Jordan stopped and turned, looking for a moment utterly terrified of imminent bodily harm.

"Congratulations on your promotion, you are soon to be the official Master and Commander of the _Raven_." Norrington smiled at Phillip Jordan as the Lt. blinked bemusedly, "We will discuss the particulars of that later, but first, the logs."

"Aye-aye, Sir," and once again Lt. Jordan lead the way. Norrington stepped over Hopkins on his way to the great cabin. Greitzer went around the ruined Capt. as two men carried him off to the surgeon and another Lt. was ordering men about to swab and holystone the deck free from the influence of Joshua Hopkins.


	30. Late Afternoon of the Third Day

Captain Scott was a man of Norington's age with deeply tanned and lined skin, white and even teeth, hair that had been bleached blond in the sunlight, and missing his left arm below the shoulder. His speech was marked with the sweet drawl of the southern colonies and his manners were amiable. The Admiral did not realize it, but he sparkled in front of the Captain in charismatic leadership and was instantly found admirable by Scott.

The inspection of the _Success _showed her to be exemplary and very well turned out, not because the Admiral was coming, but because that was the natural condition of the ship. It was in excellent spirits that both men retreated to the Great Cabin to review the logs. Norrington was again impressed by the meticulous recordkeeping and the fine hand in which it was written.

The Admiral had great confidence in this Captain and decided then and there to orally deliver his special assignment - with official paperwork to follow in all due haste. Capt. Greitzer retrieved a folded stack of bound papers from the inside of his great coat breast pocket and passed the one of interest to the Admiral. It was a wanted poster that James carefully fattened with his palms before passing it to Capt. Scott.

"This is Ammand, a corsair from the Barbary Coast," Norrington began. "According to the intelligence gathered he has been sighted out of his normal territory and is closing in on the West Indies in his ship the _Seref_. This man must be captured alive if at all possible; I – we – must make an example of him. He prefers to violate churches and women and I cannot abide either."

"I assure you, Sir, that we have never failed in our aim to cull the seas of pirates. This fiendish Mohammedan shall regret the day he took up arms against Jesus Christ and the flowers of womanhood." There was a glint in Capt. Scott's eye and he accepted his mission with pleasure as a feral grin cut across his face showing his white, even teeth. Norrington smiled back with his crooked teeth and Greitzer did not smile at all.

During the boat ride back to the _Endeavour_ Norrington grew solemn, as solemn as Greitzer, and he thought about the content of the envelope hidden in is own breast pocket. He would have to show it to Theo without anyone else being the wiser. James had a feeing that Greitzer already knew about the papers, but he did not know that the Admiral had found them.

James also thought about his cousin, Miss Dalton, and wondered if she were still alive. There was an explosive rage that lurked in his heart when he though of her capture and all the indignities she must have suffered, might still be suffering. James Norrington would drag the information out of Ammand, even if it meant using four horses, before his short drop and sudden stop.


	31. Dinner on the Third Day

Dinner was being held aboard the _Trebuchet_ at the unfashionably early hour of five o'clock, owing to the Admiral's schedule that evening. The food was excellent, the wine more so, and the ribaldry was at its height.

James was already having misgivings, as he knew he would, about Theo's leadership. Not that he feared mutiny; for he could tell already that the men loved Groves. What worried Norrington was a lack of discipline. Theo had always been one to manage by the seat of his breeches, but James had a deep, unsettling fear that this time…

Norrington did not allow that thought to complete. Groves had ambition, an eagerness to please, and a growing sense of maturity. As dinner died down and Groves' officers left the table, followed by the crew with empty plates, James allowed the Master and Commander to half-fill his glass. Situating himself close to Groves, Norrington began to speak very softly to him.

"Do you trust your men, Theo? All of them?" The wide grin wilted from Groves' face and his eyes dulled from jolly to all seriousness. "As of yet, I do…is there…" Theo began to ask as James pulled an oiled envelope from his coat and spread it before them.

"I found this hidden among Joshua Hopkins' things – my copy of his mission was a fraud," James explained, "this is his real mission." It was a missive from Cutler Beckett himself, authorizing the _HMS __Raven_ to be a privateer of all merchant ships not connected with the EITC.

"That little shite!" Groves exclaimed softly. James had no idea if he referred to the mutually hated Hopkins or Beckett himself.

"Groves, listen to me very carefully: tell know one you know of this. I need you to be my eyes and ears from afar. These are dangerous time and we are involved with a dangerous man." Norrington slipped a second oiled envelope into Groves' hands. Theo was still very much like a puppy and James feared that without a firm hand every now and again, Theo would wander too far from duty.

"Should you see anything, or hear anything, even if it be nothing more than rumors, you must alert me. This plan of Beckett's is monstrous and I seek to cease any similar plans. Should you fail at disappointing in this, I shall see you a Post Captain, Theodore Groves."

James smiled widely at his friend in combat and confidence and clinked his glass against Theo's. Returning the grin, Groves saluted Norrington with his glass and both men drank down the last of the excellent wine.


	32. Fourth Night

James could see from the prow of the boat rowing him back to land the silhouette of Mr. Mercer waiting for him on the docks. A flutter of anxiety swept through him, he was not late, but perhaps, perhaps… After disembarking from the jolly boat, Mr. Mercer came up to him and said, Lord Beckett quires your immediate attention in his office." Had Mr. Mercer seen the woman press her note upon him? Had he known James was about to violate the sanctity of Beckett's office this morning? As they walked towards headquarters, James asked, "What business?" "Urgent business," Mr. Mercer replied nonchalantly.

The streets were dark now and the only light came from the western sky was azotic pink as the sun had disappeared beyond the lip of the ocean. Shadows took on sinister forms and James was almost glad to enter the lighted interior of the EITC's executive building. Upstairs, Mr. Mercer held the door open for him and then closed it behind them. Norrington made a leg, as the meeting felt official, and Mr. Mercer took up guarding the door.

Lord Beckett looked positively murderous behind his desk and James kept his face blank and his back straight. "Enlighten me, Admiral, as to how you came to shoot one of my Captains," Beckett hissed at him from behind clenched teeth. James immediately relaxed; here was something he could explain without stammering through a lie. "Joshua Hopkins is not fit to be a Captain in this fleet, Sir. After showing me a monstrous display of insubordination without merit and refusing to retreat from such hostility I felt it necessary to remove him from command immediately."

Beckett drummed his fingers atop his desk, considering those words. "You found it necessary to shoot him when a simple piece of paperwork would have done the same?" James was amused, "Sir, knowing bureaucracies as I have in the past, the paperwork is merely a suggestion, not an order, and would have taken far more time then is prudent. A man must not let maliciousness fester in his subordinates least it contaminate the entire fleet."

Beckett's breath flared out his nostrils, "You are never to do such a thing again, do you understand me? You have disrupted my schedules and my profits. You have damaged company property in the process. I paid good money for Hopkins and now he is useless to me because of you."

James felt righteous indignation sweet through him and standing a little taller and spitting out his words in his "God damn you" tone of voice he informed Beckett: "Because of me you will have a well disciplined fleet that will instill fear in the hearts of pirates and respect in the hearts of honest men. I will not be flagrantly disrespected in front of the men without correcting that behavior immediately. You say you paid for Hopkins? Let me tell you, the man is nothing more that a troublesome little-" here Norrington took a breath to regain himself and continued "-that man is nothing but trouble and I would not have paid a half penny for him. Consider me as your savior from further financial loss by removing him as an impediment to your profits."

"Where are Hopkins' papers?" Beckett demanded. James was so startled out of his rant that his look of confusion was genuine as he said, "What?" "Hopkins' papers, damn you! Where are they?" Beckett had yelled and slammed his palms flat on his desk as he shot up from his chair. James blinked, "The logs and mission are on the _Raven_, presently in the holding of her Master and Commander, lately First Lt. Jordan." Beckett had come around his desk and pressed himself in Norrington's space as the Admiral turned to face him. Squinting eyes glared up into James' face as Beckett chewed on his lip in frustration. Norrington kept his face carefully blank. "I do believe you are concealing some from me," Beckett insinuated. Norrington narrowed his eyes as he looked down at Beckett and the words that came to mind were perfectly suited to his own charade. "Lord Beckett, I am beginning to come under the suspicion that you are hiding things from me."

Beckett blanched and flinched, thinking he had played his hand too far, but still had the nagging sensation that Norrington knew exactly what he was talking about. The lack of any evidence of deceit in his face, voice, and manner troubled Beckett the most and it meant that either way he could not be certain whether or not the Admiral knew what was intended to be sub-rosa.

"What was that you mentioned about correcting flagrant disrespect, James?" This sudden shift in topic unbalanced him and he responded naturally, 'It must be dealt with immediately, Sir." "Yes, how right you are, James. Is it not the custom of the Navy that junior officers are caned for petty offenses?" Beckett asked. "Yes, Lord Beckett, Midshipmen and ship's boys are routinely caned." "How often were you caned?" "Rarely," Norrington answered. "I do not believe you were punished enough, James, or else you would have thought twice before questioning me." 'Lord Beckett, you cannot mean to take a cane to me, the privilege of my rank prohibits it," James regarded Beckett's threat as empty, but it was not. "your privilege of rank ended when the last bit of twilight receded into the West. You belong to me."

James flinched and the color left his face. "You cannot be serious!" "Oh, but I am," Beckett said as he moved back behind his desk, "My dear Mr. Mercer shall have the privilege of punishing you. He is very good at what he does." Beckett knew exactly how good Mr. Mercer was as he had received such punishments from the man as a youth.

Dumbfounded, James stood there as Mr. Mercer too hat and remo9ved his coat. When the man began to unbutton his waistcoat Norrington could not stand the indignity of it and slapped the clerk's hand away, growling, "I will do it myself." He still could not believe this was happening to him, but he would be damned if he let the pompous little lord strip his of more of his dignity than was due. Mr. Mercer removed a cane from one of the many high desks littered about the room and bade Norrington to lean over Lord Beckett's desk.

Pushing down his unlaced breeches and wrenching up his shirt, James bend over the desk to find himself eye level with Cutler Beckett as the man sat composed in his chair, removing a jar from one of the desk's many drawers. Beckett looked James in the eye and said to his clerk, "Ten strokes, medium-hard, even, and try not to beak any skin." "Yes, sir." Mr. mercer responded and tested the strength and flexibility of the cane n this hand. Beckett unscrewed the lid of the jar after setting it on the desk. He unlaced his own breeches before nodding at Mr. Mercer to begin.

A loud _crack_ as the cane impacted his buttocks made James flinch and the sudden pain of it made his breath hitch in a hint of a whimper. Cutler smiled languorously and stuck his fingers in the jar, slicking them with some type of cream before reaching down to stroke his cock at half mast. _Crack_ and James looked away and closed his eyes. "Look at me, James. I want to see your eyes," Beckett said as he slicked his hand up and down, up and down. _Crack_ and James forced himself to look up, to look Cutler Beckett in the eye, to show his defiance snapping in his eyes even as his body flinched and mouth released breathy little sobs. _Crack_ and Beckett wet his lips as he watched the sweat bead up on Norrington's forehead. Another _crack_ and it was halfway over and the first bead of sweat was trickling down James' face. Beckett's cock was rigid as he imagined other places James might be dripping with sweat. _Crack_. The defiance was starting to leak out of James' eyes as Mr. Mercer was going over flesh that had already begun to welt. _Crack_. Jams had to grip the desk white-knuckled in the fear that me might fall and he grimaced at the thought. _Crack_ and Cutler thought James looked as though he were shuddering against the desk, as though Mr. Mercer was penetrating him. _Crack_ and James cried out and Cutler squeezed his cock harder, panting at the spectacle. _Crack_, the final blow, and James groaned and lay lip upon the desk as if he had climaxed.

Beckett got up from his desk, his slick cock bobbing, and came to see his clerk's handiwork. "Dear God," Cutler said aloud as he admired the red, swollen, welted buttocks without a single break in the skin. He brought his palm to one of James' buttock and felt the heat rising off it before his hand made contact. Norrington made a low whine in his throat and suddenly Beckett was yanking his breeches further down and parting his legs with his knees. "Oh, please," James started to whine, but was stopped short as Beckett gripped his buttocks in both hands and sent his cock hunting for purchase. James wailed at the grip on his abused flesh and cutler panted behind him, the slick head of his cock pressing against James' entrance.

"Oh God, oh God," Beckett chanted under his breath and finally let go to poke his slick digit against James' puckered hole. Norrington whimpered when the finger slicked inside him and sobbed when it was followed by the tip of Beckett's prick breaching him. "Oh yes, oh yes," Beckett began chanting as his slick cock pressed deeply into Norrington's hot arse and his rhythm was short and tight. James tried to move away from him, so that his hips would not press against his buttocks, but Beckett gripped him harder and pulled him back sharply. Changing the angle of his penetration, Cutler made James cry out as he hit the other man's sweet spot. Beckett fucked him fiercely, in earnest, his own climax looming as James was just beginning to rouse from the assault on his sweet spot. Grunting and jerking, Beckett came and thrust until he was empty and his cock lost some of its rigidity.

He withdrew from James and Mr. Mercer was there with tissue to wipe off his master's cock and hands. Ass and cock aching, James lay against the desk panting little sobs, he was utterly confused. What was happening to him? And then Beckett came around the desk again, laced up and looking as though nothing had happened. Only his smoky grey eyes and ruddy cheeks gave him away. He threw down some unused tissue on the desk and informed Norrington, "Clean yourself up and get out. I have work to do." James was shocked and humiliated. He picked up the tissue with a shaking hand and wiped his arse with whimpers held in by teeth biting his lower lip. Beckett screwed the lid back onto his jar and replaced it in the drawer. As James pulled up his breeches and tucked his shirt it, awkwardly fumbling with his half hard cock, Mr. Mercer approached with his waistcoat, coat, and hat. It seems Beckett was intent on ignoring James and he brought out a stack of paper from one of his locked drawers and began perusing them. Dressed, but still shaking, Norrington was let out of the room by Mr. Mercer and walked slowly in a daze towards the red room.

Once inside the room with the door shut behind him, James burst into tears. Not for the beating or the fucking, but for the careless disgust Beckett had showed him afterward. Norrington undressed without any real concern for where his shoes or greatcoat ended up on the floor and then he crawled quietly into bed as the tears streamed down his face. He lay on his stomach and pressed his face into the pillow. Underneath the shame he was angry at his stubborn cock for still being a little hard.


	33. The Last of the Fourth Night

Tears had long since dried on James' cheeks and he was very tired, but could not sleep. The house was quite and he listened to the sound of his own heartbeat. Norrington had scrunched his shirt up to his lower back and had stuck his legs beneath the sheets and he was sure even the slightest silk laid over his arse would have caused him discomfort.

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up and he realized that beyond the sudden pounding of his heart he could hear footfalls coming down the hall towards him. James' fingers clawed into the bedding and he arched his back like a cat, ready to spring away. The door opened and the dour face of Mr. Mercer flickered in the candle light.

Norrington's eyes followed Mercer as he came into the room and shut the door behind him. He did not relax when he saw that Beckett was not with his clerk. Mercer laid the candleholder on the small table near the bed and came towards James. "What do you want?" Norrington hissed as he scooted away from the man.

"Your arse," Mr. Mercer said laconically. Before James could spring out of the bed the other man had snatched one of his ankles and dragged him back to the edge. "I did not agree to this!" Norrington whispered shrilly and Mercer rolled his eyes. "Always so dramatic, Admiral. You misinterpret my intentions," Mercer admonished.

"What are you going to do to me?" James demanded, breathing hard and not trusting the man as far as he could throw him. "Fix your bum," Mercer replied, "Make it nice and peachy again." Norrington could not even stammer a proper response and the clerk arched a brow.

"Now, if you would rather not have the salve…" Mercer trailed off and allowed James to catch up. "No. No. You should not have made me think you had…" James trailed off, too embarrassed to complete his thought. The clerk huffed, looking Norrington up and down, "Not with that skinny arse."

"That is very wicked of you!" James was thoroughly scandalized at this whole turn of events. Mr. Mercer drew his lips over his teeth at the Admiral and told him, "I am a very wicked man." Narrowing his eyes at the clerk, Norrington surmised, "I dare say, you are enjoying this." "Immensely," Mercer replied.

Huffing, James positioned himself at the edge of the bed as Mercer removed a middling jar from his pocket and unscrewed the lid. The jar was not as fine as the one Beckett had earlier, but Norrington found himself again on the edge of panic. "What is that?" he asked the clerk. "Jelly of Aloe Vera," Mercer replied.

"Can I not apply it myself?" James asked as he saw the clerk scoop out a large dollop of the colorless jelly with two fingers. "You would not be able to do it properly," Mercer said and the Admiral sighed. "So now you are to play my nursemaid again? Do you always clean up after Lord Beckett?" Norrington asked angrily.

"That is what I do," Mercer said simply and slid his aloe slicked fingers across a welt on the Admiral's bum. James groaned into his pillow, first in discomfort at having his welts touched and then in relief as the jelly seeped into the heat of his wounds and soothed them. Norrington curled his toes in delight when Mercer was finally finished.

As Mercer cleaned his hand, James thought to himself that it was a good thing that Lord Beckett had a man like Mr. Mercer about; he could not go about his nightly duty with his arse all bruised. "Oh no, Admiral. Lord Beckett likes the bruises," Mercer replied as he let himself out along with the candlelight. James had not known he had spoken aloud.


	34. Fifth Morning

Morning came suddenly and James nuzzled his face into the pillow, not quite ready to face the day. Stretching his legs and popping his joints from sleep, he rolled over and groaned. Rolling back over onto his belly, wide awake, Norrington inspected his welted bum and lightly touched his skin. It was still hot to the touch, but Mr. Mercer's treatment seemed to have kept much of the swelling down, and bruises had not yet begun to purple his backside.

Sighing, James eased himself to the side of the bed and dismounted to his feet without ever brushing his buttocks across the edge of the mattress. He looked for his clothes about the floor and grunted as he picked them up, stretching the skin over his welts. Norrington dressed with care and thought that if he could manage the rest of the day without sitting, he should be fine. James was looking forward to setting out to sea and away from Beckett's lechery.

Although his coats put weight on his backside, James found he could walk without too much stiffness and gathered up his feelings and locked them away before leaving the room. The hallway was deserted and James walked towards Beckett's office and passed just close enough to hear voices inside. He would have to sneak about there another time. Turning the corner, he came upon the staircase and began to descend. Stopping in mid-step, Norrington saw the woman from yesterday was there at the foot of the stairs.

She met his eyes deliberately, holding a finger tip to her lips, and turned about, walking away. James stood still, unable to move, until the woman threw a look back over her shoulder. It was a signal to follow and Norrington nearly bounded down the steps after her. The woman was surprisingly quick as the hem of her skirts swished about the casement of the doorway leading into one of the parlors before passing out of sight. James hurried after her and into the blue parlor.

"James," she breathed, as if they were lovers, and clung immediately to him. Hands limp at his sides in shock as she pressed her face against his neck and pressed her lips against his ear. "It is not safe to talk here," her moist whisper against his ears pooled down his neck, across his chest, and into his belly. Norrington's cock was at full attention and he wrapped his arms around her, least she flit away. "Madam, you have me at a disadvantage," he began, but she pressed her fingertips to his lips.

"Meet me at the Blue Dog after Noon. Tell no one," and with that last bit she was pulling away from him and Norrington let her go, bewildered. "But why? Why all this subterfuge?" James asked, referencing her blank not from yesterday. She pressed her finger to her lips and looked over his shoulder before sliding around him to the exit. "What do you want with me?" Norrington questioned her in a hissing whisper, "Who are you?" She paused, considering his questions, and answered, "I am the Housekeeper."

And then she was striding out of the room and James felt as though a great piece of ice had fallen into his stomach. The Housekeeper? He knew he had seen her before, but now he worried if she had seen him…with Cutler Beckett. Norrington trembled as he thought of the possibility of blackmail, of exposure. A queasiness roiling in his belly forced him to sit heavily upon the delicate sofa. James tried to think. _If_ she meant him harm would there be a need for amatory advances? He would go to the Blue Dog and discover for himself.


	35. Noon on the Fifth Day

The Noon sun left no shadows, save those underfoot, and the Admiral made his way to the Blue Dog. It was not a tavern frequented by the Navy – or more recently the Company, more of a middling place for tradesmen and the like. James was already missing Theo, who had sailed away with the tide to gather recognizance, and he felt incredibly awkward going to the tavern alone.

The morning left him haunted with the image of a pale, round face with brown eyes that sparkled like topaz and full lips that could either whisper threats or secrets. Where had he seen her before? There was something at play and James did not know the rules of the game. These subtle machinations were not at all his style; he preferred cannons roaring broadsides.

The Blue Dog might have been a few degrees cooler on the inside, but the stuffiness of the air made it difficult to distinguish. It seemed that even the motes friscolating in the humid air were sodden and sluggish. Norrington approached the bar and wondered if he should eat anything or merely pacify himself with something to drink. A dish of black coffee was his choice and he welcomed the bitter taste that bolstered his mind.

The Admiral's gaze swept the room, looking for a moonfaced woman among the growing crowd and finding none. Although he was offered a table he did not sit. Instead he gave the slightest innuendo that he was costive and the potboy dropped the matter entirely. James stood and kept his eyes on the door and waited. Ordered a second dish of coffee and waited. Finished his second dish of coffee and waited.

Norrington briefly considered ordering a third dish of coffee, until he realized that he would wait in vain no matter how slowly he sipped at his dish. James could stay no longer and was about to leave before he thought of leaving a message should she arrive after he departed. Then he remembered that he did not even know her name. It would be impolitic to say to the barkeep that he would rather keep the lady's name out of it.

He should leave a message, in the event the woman was waylaid, so she knew he had not jilted her. The Admiral said to the barkeep succinctly, "Should a lady come looking for me, please tell her Admiral Norrington had a prior engagement," and walked out. James felt more awkward leaving than when he came in and found himself with an urgent need to piss and to gather his thoughts.


End file.
